


A Breath of Fresh Air

by NothingIWontGive



Category: Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
Genre: SO, dont expect much, please, this was for a school project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingIWontGive/pseuds/NothingIWontGive
Summary: This was for a school project.Said project was to write a new chapter/ part to the book.And I finished the book way earlier than this was assigned.Or I misinterpreted.Either way enjoy.





	A Breath of Fresh Air

  
  


Part Four

  
  
  
  


A Breath of Fresh Air

English 11, Period 7

May 7, 2019

**W** hen Montag reached the city he felt like he could breathe; for the first time in his  life, he could feel fresh air fill his lungs. The city he was in was completely different than the one he grew up in. The city that he witnessed horrors in and did more horrors. Montag was glad he was out of the city he had called home for thirty years of his life. The city was quiet and clean, which was odd to him. He was used to inhaling smoke, inhaling ashes of books, inhaling the scent of people and paper burning. Montag was used to feeling sick in every movement he made. He was not used to the soft smell of flowers, nor the lack of soot being blown in the way. Sure the city he was in before wasn't like that all the time, but he couldn't even see any smoke in the machines. He couldn't see if there was even a flue or anything of the sort. Montag loved it here, he wanted to live here forever. Not that he could ever go back to his previous place of residence. It being burned to the ground, it obviously wasn't fireproof enough. Montag looked at the group who was following him, he looked at the determined faces they all held. Montag wanted to keep them that way, he wanted the people who were following him to remain hopeful. 

He smiled softly at the books in their hands, he was glad that they made it out of the city that was demolished. He hoped that their lives could stay this way for a little while longer. Montag was happy, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. He grew up being the same as everyone else. He grew up being a robot, an android, an emotionless shell. He was told to stay the same throughout his life. Taught to never question what he was supplied with. Don't bite the hand that feeds you, and all. Montag didn't bite the hand, but he did defy what it told him. That's how he got where he is now. Montag was exhilarated to be able to be himself, even if it was with a small group of people. He wished Clarisse was here, she would have loved it. She could see the good in everything anyway. She would have been excited to not have to see the best of everything, to just see the world. Though he guessed she did anyway, she would have loved to question him about why he did what he did. Why he became a phoenix, why he burned his past. Why he left everything to memory, to be remembered when he himself was questioning if he had made the right choice. Montag wasn't sure he would ever be sure he chose the right path, it was too late to turn back now though. Even if he wanted to go back to his old life, though he most definitely did not want to do that, he couldn't unbomb his hometown. It was gone forever though it could be rebuilt however it would never be the same as it was beforehand. It wouldn't be populated by the same people. Most of them were slain in the bombing, destroyed with the city they gave blind hope to. Their hope sure made them get far, considering the ones who they gave belief to are the individuals who slaughtered them. Montag was pleased that he saw through their lies. Sure, he followed the rules for a majority of his life, but he did eventually realize he was doing wrong. 

He wished he had realized it sooner. Fewer people would have died by his hands, fewer books would have burned in his palms. Everything would have ended up different. He would have been dead, he was sure. But his death would have been worth it to him, he would have been able to read books, even if that meant he had to be set ablaze. Of course, some of the deaths he had witnessed weren't his fault. Clarisse wasn't his fault, she was taken out because she was unique. Mildred was most likely dead, died doing what she did best, doing nothing but watching the television wall. Though she could have also overdosed on her sleeping meds, Montag worried about that often. He wasn't sure if he would ever be sure how she died. Either in the bombing or with those sleeping pills he had envisioned her perishing because of. But, of course, she could have died another way, Guy would never know. He wasn't going to find out, that was for sure. His Captain's death was his fault, but it wasn't like he wanted to kill Beatty. His goal was not to murder his former Captain. He just wanted to escape, and he most definitely did not want to blow up his city. He was fine with his former home being gone, but the city was part of his heart. No matter what had happened there, it was a significant place he knew. The only city he had ever known, the only buildings, the only smoke, the only everything. Until now, he now got to learn about a new city, a new place, and hopefully a new home. But, you never know, this city was only a rumour, a whisper in the dark between lovers, or friends. Between all who dared to question, and between higher powers bound to kill the deviant souls. 

Montag was having a nightmare, one that was real. He knew he shouldn't have tried to sleep so soon after fleeing his burning city. He knew his nightmares weren't currently happening, but that doesn't mean they weren't horrifying. That doesn't mean it won't haunt him for the rest of the day. Montag was always haunted by the things that happened to him, afraid of reality becoming true. Watching innocent peoples deaths wasn't what he wanted to relive for the rest of his mortal existence. Though Montag had the feeling he wasn't going to live a long life, he was going to run into problems soon. Those problems might kill him, life was strange like that. The world was against what he and his allied stood for. The government hated people like them. The city they were in could be a wolf in sheep's clothing, could be a large ruse constructed by the government. The city could have been made to bring a false sense of hope to the refugees that ran there for hope. Maybe Montag was being paranoid, or maybe he was just thinking through the possibilities. His new life was a life of crime, crimes that were right. The law against said crimes were unjustified and wrong, they made no sense at all. It isn't just his hometown that's against books and learning. For all, he knew it's how the whole world was like. The world could be an absolutely horrid place, and Montag wouldn't know until it was way too late. He wouldn't know until more people he knew were being killed.

His new found followers could die because Montag made a minor mistake. In their society, one mistake could roll into a large one, then to a major mistake. His life could be messed up because he made a wrong turn, he went into a shop that wasn't safe for him and his people. He could walk into a person who is a government official, then he would have to move away from the new city he had come to enjoy. The city could be just like his previous, which was one of his biggest fears. But, of course, Montag knew his mind was much more messed up than before. So he could begin to hallucinate people who were dead, much like the dream he just had. Montag could tell that he was going to see his former employers face right as he got shot, he knew he was going to imagine the face his wife had made in her final moments. Probably fascinated with the television wall. Probably unthinking, as she usually was, her bleached hair was more than likely burned to a crisp. Lord did Montag really need to stop thinking about his past. He was a different man now, very little restrictions held him down. However, Montag could stop imagining his wife's bleached head motionless. Just blindly staring at other’s lives. Truthfully, she had been dead for years. The body lived but the mind had gone elsewhere. But he still missed her, he always would.

Montag rolled over and came face to face with a skull. In a panic, he leapt to his feet only to realize he was seeing another human wearing a mask. “What do you think you are doing?” The mask slowly tilted up to look at him, “looking for you,” the voice inside the mask said.


End file.
